


Words

by Cerberus_Revised



Category: Junjou Romantica
Genre: Egoist - Freeform, M/M, relationship drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 04:27:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4692062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberus_Revised/pseuds/Cerberus_Revised
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since Hiroki was home this weekend too and their time together was precious to him, normally Nowaki would have taken the  extra shift with a sense of reluctance, Today though, he had been grateful for the excuse to get out of the house.</p><p>The reason?</p><p>Hiro-san was writing.</p><p>Moved over from FanFiction where it was located as part of the "A Thousand Words" series, under my penname, "Cerberus Revised."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Junjou Romantica or any of its characters.

Nowaki entered the apartment quietly. He set down his Boston bag, slipped off his shoes and into his slippers, and shuffled stealthily towards the main room.

It was Saturday and he'd been supposed to have had the day off. However, Tsumori had been recently transferred to the day shift and the reckless playboy had managed to run afoul of one of his sweetheart's husbands. Now, being medically treated himself, Tsumori had been unable to make his rounds; so the hospital had called early that morning, and asked Nowaki if he would come in his place.

Normally he would have taken the extra shift reluctantly, since Hiroki was home this weekend too and their time together was precious to him. Today though, he had been grateful for the excuse to get out of the house.

The reason?

Hiro-san was writing.

Hiroki had been asked to pen an article for a prestigious academic journal. It was due soon and although he had been diligent, there had been some hiccups with his research. Unable to concentrate in his office (because of Miyagi) and as most of his resources were coming from his personal library at home, he had taken to working in the apartment.

Nowaki crept into the front room and saw his lover's dark head still bent over his laptop, staring at the screen but not typing. He let out a soft sigh even as his chest tightened.

* * *

Hiro-san had commandeered their dining table as a desk for his projects. Piled it high with books and papers, despite the fact he had a whole room in the apartment for a study. But, Nowaki had taken this in stride.

He hadn't really minded that because of this, they'd not been able to have a proper meal there now for over two weeks. Nor had he complained about the fact that every conversation that he'd shared with his partner over these same two weeks, inevitably somehow came back to Hiro-san's project. Although if he was honest, he might have allowed that he was just the smallest bit jealous, wishing sometimes that his lover would be as single minded about him.

No, what really bothered Nowaki was that when Hiro-san was writing, especially if it wasn't going well, his temperament, which was normally fiery, too easily slipped into scalding. And he had recently been burned by Hiroki's frustration so that, even now, his tender heart was still blistered. This particular outburst had arisen from the fact that, in order to concentrate, Hiroki needed to have absolute quiet when he did this particular type of writing. Comments to students, lectures, and missives, he could generate in almost any environment at this point, but this other was different.

Again, it hadn't bothered Nowaki that he had to keep the TV off, and he had earphones so he could listen to music if he wanted some noise in his own personal background. But Hiro-san's need for silence was apparently greater than this, and last night he'd gone off on him simply because he had been eating some chips and his crunching was apparently too loud.

Normally Nowaki was very patient with Hiro-san's eccentricities, but that evening he had been tired, having just finished his rotation of three, twelve-hour days at the hospital. All he'd wanted in that moment was to be able to relax and eat a snack unmolested in the comfort of his own god damn home.

He'd made the mistake of telling Hiro-san exactly this, leaving out the "god damn," of course, even though he'd thought it.

Needless to say, once this match hit the proverbial tinder, Hiro-san had exploded; they had fought; and Nowaki spent the remainder of the evening eating his chips out on the balcony, secretly wishing the whole time that literature had never been invented. He had continued to grant Hiro-san his wish for silence for the evening's remainder, coming in at last, only when the crunchy chips had been vanquished; crinkly bag already folded up and ready for the trashcan. He had then gone to bed without saying a word.

Not that Hiro-san even seemed to notice.

While he was not generally given to holding on to his anger, Nowaki had even made a point, lest his breathing that direction be too loud, to fall asleep with his back turned to Hiroki's empty side of the bed, rather than facing towards it as he normally would have.

He'd awoken in the morning, however, having rolled over sometime during his sleep, to realize Hiro-san was still absent from their futon, left wondering if Hiroki had even slept at all, the other side appearing relatively undisturbed. He had lain there, looking at the empty sheets where Hiro-san should have been until the call from the hospital had come in.

Grateful for the excuse to escape, Nowaki had gotten dressed and left without breakfast or even saying "good morning," but Hiro-san was so still absorbed in his computer, he didn't think he'd ever even bothered to look up.

If Nowaki had glanced back as the door was closing behind him, however, he would have caught Hiroki watching him, biting his bottom lip, brow sadly furrowed, before silently cursing and returning to his typing.

* * *

Back in the present, having moved quietly into the kitchen, Nowaki now studied his lover from where he stood at the counter, wondering whether or not it was safe to try and make tea. Stepping over to the stove, he realized Hiro-san had already put the electric kettle on and then obviously forgotten about it, as all the water in it was almost gone.

Pouring what remained into a mug, He saw there was only enough for one cup. He silently sighed again. _It figures._

After steeping the single cup, Nowaki went to the refrigerator and pulled a cold can of tea out for himself. Walking over to the table, he set the cup of hot tea to the side of Hiroki's laptop.

Hiroki slowly turned his head and stared at the mug. His brow dipped but he didn't look up. Nowaki didn't say anything. Instead, he took his can of cold tea, went over, opened the sliding glass door, and stepped out on to the balcony, closing the door behind him.

After he had been on the balcony for about five minutes the door opened again.

From where he sat, sideways in a chair at their small patio table, Nowaki looked over at Hiroki. Hiroki stayed, leaning in the doorway, with his arms crossed over his chest, one hand holding his teacup.

"Stuck again?" Nowaki ventured at last.

"No… Finished." Hiroki looked to the side as he said this.

Nowaki's brow rose. "Oh?"  He was curious as to why Hiro-san would have still been sitting there then. "Just?"

Hiroki sighed, dropped his arms, and rubbed his forehead with his free hand.

"Yes."

Nowaki knew Hiro-san well enough after all their years together, to know that particular rub was indicative of one of his partner's frequent stress headaches. Knowing too that Hiro-san had "finished" the article already twice before, he asked cautiously, "Really?"

Hiroki growled, his scowl deepened, and then he winced.

"Yes."

Nowaki was certain now Hiro-san was in the throes of a crushing headache. He found himself thinking again, as he had in his off minutes at the hospital that day, about how hard his partner had been working. And, despite how raw he still was over last night, he felt himself soften a bit.

He knew the rule of academia was "publish or perish" and, with Hiro-san up for tenure, building his writing portfolio was imperative. He also understood how driven for perfection Hiro-san was: it was one of the things he'd long admired about him. And he knew for a fact too, that his professor agonized in such writing over the placement of every single word, just as much as the annoying author he edited for.

As if he'd read Nowaki's mind, Hiroki drug a slippered toe along the ground in front of him and mumbled, "I'm tired of words."

This was probably the literary equivalent to "I'm cold" but, though warming, Nowaki still wasn't entirely thawed yet.

"Maybe you just need a new set of words," he offered quietly, dropping his eyes down to his can of tea as he opened it.

"Maybe," Hiroki agreed walking over towards the table. He stood across the table in front of Nowaki, leaning, his free hand resting on the back of the table's other chair, but not pulling it out.

 "Simple words can be good some times." Without looking up, Nowaki took a sip of cold tea. "Maybe you should stick to those for a while."

Hiroki released the chair and moved slowly around the table until he stood directly in front of Nowaki.

"Like?"

"I don't know... " Nowaki's voice was still steeped with his hurt over the harsh words Hiroki had seemed to string together so seamlessly the previous evening. "You're the _wordsmith_."

"Okay, how about _thank you_?" Hiroki offered. "That's relatively simple"

Nowaki glanced up and saw Hiro-san nodding to the cup of tea he held in his hand. Half of his mouth rebelled against his desire to remain cool and quirked up into a smile.

"That's not a bad start."

Hiroki moved in and surprised Nowaki, turning around and sitting on the ground between his splayed legs. Laying his head against one of his knees.

"Some simple words are not all that 'simple,' you know."

The rest of Nowaki's mouth melted and he smiled fully now at this. Reaching one of his large hands forward, he gripped a tense shoulder, pulling Hiro-san towards him until Hiroki's back was leaning against the seat of his chair, between his lean thighs. He ran the fingers of one hand through thick, brown hair and used this to pull Hiroki's head back.

"Give me an example, Hiro-san."

With his other hand Nowaki laid his cold tea can against his partner's aching forehead. Hiroki closed his eyes and sighed at the chilled but blessed sensation.

" _Love_ for one."

Nowaki set his can to the side on the table."Funny, I've always found that word relatively easy." He kept his voice soft as his skilled, surgical fingers began kneading Hiroki's temples.

Hiroki groaned as these healing hands began to push his pain back down to a manageable level.

"Well, here's another one then, Nowaki." Tipping his head back further, dark eyes regarded Nowaki intently before he looked away again and said in a low growl, "Sorry."

For a few minutes after he said this there was silence between them, but it was not uncomfortable. Nowaki continued to stroke Hiroki's pained brow for a time before he spoke again.

"I can see how that word might be hard. So, I'll give you another word I have always found rather easy."

He then waited for Hiro-san to look back up at him. When, after another minute, Hiroki finally did, Nowaki smiled at his lover, his warmth fully returned. He leaned down and kissed Hiro-san's aching forehead.

"Forgiven."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
